M-I ONE
by bloomsburry
Summary: They are not Gods...but they might as well be...and Gods should never fall for their own creation. HG/JP,TR,SB,RAB,RL,DM,SS,LM - HP AU
1. Chapter 1

**WARNINGS:** THIS IS GOING TO BE A VERY DARK AND TWISTED STORY WITH SEXUAL EXPLICIT CONTENT AND OTHER DISTURBING THINGS. IF YOU DON'T LIKE CRAZY, THEN TAKE THE DOOR AND LEAVE.

 **CHAPTER 1**

As a result of genetic inheritance, the Purebloods thought themselves as superior in terms of genetic make-up, with their Pureblood DNA encoded with the S human genome that made most of them a prodigy; people with sophisticated inherited capacity that allowed them to acquire an astonishing amount of skill-sets in their repertoire that would normally take years of experience to master, but the purebloods could do in a short span of time.

Likewise, individuals belonging to the Sacred Twenty-Eight, or descendants from the Old Blood line, had a vaster and ready-made mental hard drive if compared to individuals with diluted blood.

They were programmed for any areas of expertise that they set their minds to - whether it be music, art, mathematics or other fields that interest them - they could easily excel in all of them as manifested through prodigious skills.

This was the main reason most of Pureblood Families and their allies had further entrenched itself into the society, earning a higher place in the social spectrum while casting aside business competitions and possible intellectual threats that sometimes came up from normal people they called… _muggles._

….

 **Potter Highland Estate**

 **September 20, 2331**

"What are you making James?" Fleamont Potter asked his six-year old son, peering over James' shoulder.

James looked up and smiled at his father, "I'm making something from a dream I had Dad."

Fleamont squatted down to look more closely at what James' was working on.

It looked like James had been molding a clay to form a small head.

Fleamont chuckled at his son, wondering if this was his son's way in silently telling him that he wanted a younger sibling.

"Do you want a baby brother son?"

James frowned. "No, what gave you that idea Dad?"

"From what you are molding."

"Oh," James turned back to the clay and started kneading it with his hand, carefully forming a face.

"No, not a brother Dad… perhaps a little sister with brown eyes?"

Fleamont Potter merely laughed.

…..

Euphemia watched as James worked on the graffiti on his bedroom walls.

The graffiti, painting, charcoal drawing, wooden carvings, ice sculptures and even holographic images that James had created from his holopad were always the same.

Every art works he created was the image of a child that neither she, or her husband, and most certainly James, hadn't seen in real life.

…..

" _Who is the child James?"_

" _She's from a dream I had... Isn't she cute?" James said to her. "Can we look for her Mom? I want to meet her…"_

" _We don't know her son…maybe she doesn't even live in England."_

" _Even if she lives far Mom. I want to meet her…"_

" _Someday James…perhaps someday you will, when she's older…She looks like she's barely a month old..."_

….

"Something is wrong with James, Flea…" Euphemia said worriedly, "He has been creating those artworks since last week, and hasn't stop ever since. It's consuming him. He hardly eats and sleeps. He's been moulding, drawing, painting, carving, and even digital painting the same thing, again and again, as if he's trying to capture her and make her real..."

"It's normal with his age, Euphie. It must be a burst of artistic inspiration." Fleamont tried to assure his wife, but deep down, James' sudden onset of _furor poeticus_ was alarming.

He heard that Pureblood children, and even half-bloods, showed their prodigious artistic talent between the age of four and ten, but James' unexpected creativity was caused by a dream, and had lasted for nearly two weeks, with James' looking more and more hollow-eyed and pale.

"Don't worry, Euphie. I think he'll soon finish what he wanted to accomplish."

….

James' _furor poeticus_ lasted for another week. His condition had gotten worst. They had no choice but to send him to see the Alucinari; a special psychologist for the purebloods.

"It's called the Muse Syndrome." The Alucinari explained. "It's a rare but not unheard of. It has occurred before and with the same symptoms as your son is having. First the dreams, followed by motivation to create, or the onset of _furor poeticus,_ and then the burst of creative output, whether it is through writing epic poetry, dance, music, hymn, but in your son's case, artistic creation."

"I see…" Fleamont Potter said.

"But why has he been trying to create artworks of a child? A child that my son had only dreamt of?" Euphemia asked.

"Because the child is his muse." The Alucinari informed.

Both Euphemia and Fleamont exchanged a glance.

"His muse?"

"Yes, your son's muse who must have been born recently. It is what prompted your son's prolong artistic frenzy."

There was a moment of silence as both Fleamont and Euphemia looked at their son sitting down beside them.

James' hadn't looked up from his holotab throughout the entire conversation. He seemed to have a world of his own as he started creating a pixelated image of his muse projected from the glass on his hand.

"How long will this – this Muse Syndrome last? What must be done to stop it?" Euphemia turned back to the Alucinari with a worried look. "My son no longer responds to social cues now. All he does is finish his artworks."

"There's nothing we can do to stop it, but some of the symptoms can be treated. Usually, the Muse Syndrome last for about two weeks before the _furor poeticus_ tapered off. However, since your son have lasted for nearly three weeks. He might need medication to stimulate his appetite and help him sleep. I take it that he hasn't been doing either of those?"

"He eats few spoonsful before heading to his room. We try to convince him to eat more but he doesn't seem to hear us. He's like one of those automatons created from the Nott's Robotics." Fleamont said in concern.

"And he only sleeps when he grows tired." Euphemia added.

"Yes, the loss of appetite and insomnia is normal when being… _controlled_ by the divine winds." The Alucinari said, "I'll give you the medications to help him…although he still needs to be carefully monitored…"

The Alucinari regarded them both briefly before saying, "If you notice him acting strange, or something odd happening around him, I want you to call this number."

Euphemia watched as the Alucinari projected a number from his holophone.

Almost at once, both Fleamont and Euphemia Potter paled when they saw the number.

"Why call _them?_ …" Fleamont whispered in fear, "Why would _they_ want to know what's happening to my son?"

"I think you already know the answer to that, Mr. Potter." The Alucinari stated. "Do you recall the Pureblood Mythos?"

Euphemia answered before her husband could, "But – but those are Myths... I don't think James is capable of even creating one."

"But some Myths are based on truths, Mrs. Potter," the Alucinari interrupted. "I suggest that you heed my advice. This is only the beginning…remember the past, remember that we can't let _another one_ walk this earth..."

"My son wouldn't…." Fleamont said, shaken at the possibility, putting a hand on James' shoulder, who remained oblivious to what was happening around him. "He wouldn't dare make one…He doesn't even have the… _spark."_

"The truth, Mr. Potter, is that children have more power than even us Adults when it comes to unleashing their imagination… and all the more so if they came from the pureblood line."

…

As soon as the Potters left, he made his call.

"There's another one…" He said, looking at the five figures standing around him in holographic projections.

 _The Council of Merlin._

"How many children are now affected?" asked one figure to his left.

"Now, there's nine of them. Fleamont Potter had just brought his son today. James Potter, six years old, he has been manifesting as well. His is through artworks."

"Is it from the same… _muse?_ "

"Yes,"

There was a momentary paused.

"Have you asked them to monitor their son?"

"Yes."

Another pause.

"Nine for the nine Theïkós Moúses," one of the figures murmured.

"Who do you think has the high chance of creating one?"

"James Potter, and Merope Gaunt's son, Tom Riddle Jr." He told them, "The latter have the same manifestation as the Potter boy. The rest of the children have potentially non-harmful manifestations."

"Regardless, the other children must be kept under surveillance."

"And if the burst of inspiration continues to manifest, then we'll have to bring the children in. We can't let this continue or we'll have _one_ walking amongst us once more."

….

"Have you discovered the name of their muse?"

"Yes, her name is Hermione Granger, born on September 19, 2331 at exactly 3:33 A.M to muggles."

"It's approximately the same time when the children started seeing visions."

"Do you think it's a coincidence? That her parents named her Hermione?"

"No….it's not a coincidence. I suspect that the girl's parents had been influenced as well… In some way, her name is a warning to us. It's warning that another is close to entering our world."

Silence filled the dimly-lit room where the five figures continued their meeting.

"What shall we do with the children's muse?"

"As of now… nothing. However, there are might be individuals out there who will take this opportunity to target the pureblood children. Individuals that are known, or hidden enemy, to either the Potters, Riddles, Malfoys, Blacks, or the Chairman of the National Security Council. If someone moves in to kill her, it will drive the pureblood children into insanity…and we mustn't let that happen."

"I agree. We must protect our own. We mustn't let the girl come to harm or we lose a good portion of child prodigies from the pureblood line."

"Send people to protect the muggleborn girl. Station some agents around the place where the girl lives and keep them there until the danger has come to past."

The shadowy figures nodded their heads.

"How about the children? Especially Fleamont Potter's son and Merope's son?"

"Both the children's parents are already made aware of the danger their sons are facing. They will contact us as soon as they notice something is wrong, but in the meantime... we wait and watch…"

Another lapse of silence followed.

"Are there other things that we might need to discuss, gentlemen?" the head of the council broke the silence.

Some of the figures shook their head, saying: "No," or "Everything has been settled."

"Well…If there is nothing else, then I call this council meeting adjourned." The head of the council said.

"Remember to keep your eyes and ears open in the next few days. We might receive a call from any of the families that are affected. Be on high alert. We can't afford to be taken off guard, lest we'll soon find ourselves fighting a war that we can't win."

….

 **Three days later….**

 **Potter Highland Estate**

Euphemia felt a prickling at the back of her neck, a six sense telling her that she was being watched.

She turned and saw the marble carving that James' had displayed in the pedestal in the gallery.

She stared at it.

She didn't know if it was her imagination, but she felt like she saw the marble carving of the child moved its arm slightly.

…

Fleamont Potter was at his own work office on the third floor of the manor, when heard the sound of giggling.

He looked up from the glass table where he was using a live simulation to predict the outcome of his next experiments. Just as he lifted his head, he caught sight of a shadow skittering away from the open doorway.

He could hear the soft pitter-patter of running feet and the giggling that followed.

Fleamont was certain that hadn't been James who had crept outside his office.

…..

Euphemia walked towards her son's bedroom.

"What game do you want to play next?" She heard James' asked someone.

She frowned, pausing at the door to listen carefully.

"Chess."

There was a sudden spike of fear that raced up Euphemia's spine when she heard the voice of another child; a girl's voice.

Hastily, she stepped closer to sliding door, which automatically opened for her after detecting her movement.

James was just rising up from the floor when she looked inside.

No one was there except James and one of his creation; a wooden puppet doll that James' had assembled in a matter of six hours.

James saw her and smiled, saying. "Hi, mom."

"Who were you talking to, James?" She asked, scanning the room.

"Oh,"

Euphemia saw James' glanced at the doll on the floor. Her eyes went back to it.

The doll was sitting upright, but unmoving.

"No one, mom." James said after a second. "I was talking to myself."

"But I heard a voice." Euphemia remarked, her frown deepening. "It was voice of a child. A girl."

"Ah," James said, suddenly scooping low to pick up the doll. "I've place a voice box into her. So you must have heard her voice."

"Oh…." Euphemia peered closely at it, getting unnerved at the pair of brown eyes, that were almost life-like, staring back at her.

"What did you name her?" she asked, glancing at her son.

"Her name is Mione."

"That's an odd name, James. Wherever did you get it from?"

"It's short for Hermione, mom." James said. "From Shakespeare's work, one of the Pureblood Mythos, The Winter's Tale."

 _Her_... Euphemia felt her throat tightened in fear, goose flesh erupted on her arms at the name James' had chosen.

 _The Queen Hermione._

She should have known to trust her instinct.

That the name had been a _warning_.

A warning that another one was close to entering their world.

…

"I swear it Fleamont! James' marble carving was here not a moment ago!" Euphemia hissed at her husband, her heart racing while her hands grew cold and clammy in fright when she clamped them on her husband's arm.

"It was here!"

"What are you trying to say, Euphie? That James' creation has move on its own?"

After saying those words out loud, they both froze, suddenly realizing what they've been trying to deny for the last few days.

Their eyes skittered around the room, alarmed.

"Should we call the Council?" Fleamont whispered, her lips barely moving, afraid that one of James' creation could be spying on them.

"I don't know Flea…if we do, what do you think they are going to do to our son?"

"I am not sure….but he needs help, Euphie….and the council must be informed, or it will be beyond our control if we don't act now."

"Let's call them tomorrow, Flea…not now…" Euphemia pleaded. "Let us spend time with our son…before the council takes him away."

However, Fleamont could see a different glint in Euphie's eyes, telling him to play along. Fleamont dipped his head, acknowledging his wife's silent words.

"Alright, Euphie…we will spend time with James before we call the council."

In truth, they would call the council as soon as they were safe from prying eyes and ears.

….

For the rest of the day, Fleamont and Euphemia stayed with James, watching him as their son lost himself in creating yet another piece of art; this time it was a vase etched with faces of James' personal muse.

The two were very careful in relaying coded messages to each other as they formulate a plan, pressing and tapping fingers on their shoulders, their back and their arms disguised as an affectionate gesture.

 _Put the security system on code 0 for an immediate locked down once there is an attack._

 _We should have the automatons primed as well. Either one of us must sneak into the control room and encode the commands. And hope that James' manifestation hasn't learned to hack our Holo system interface…_

 _Yes, and Euphie…I know you don't like the thought of putting our son under heavy medication, but increasing the dosage on James sleeping meds is necessary to stop him from interfering with our plans._

 _I know, Flea…and I will be the one to do it. I'll put the meds on his food during dinner._

 _Just remember to do it quick. From here on out, we must always act under the presumption that we are being watched. We mustn't rouse any suspicion no matter what. And in the worst case scenario, we have to use the E.L.F robot. It's the only best option we have to get James out of the estate fast, and hopefully without alerting his manifestation. I will set the robot to evacuate James from the estate once our son has fallen asleep. Meanwhile, you find a way to call the Council as soon as we are on the clear._

 _Ok…and what about us? Shall we leave too?_

 _No, our son created those things… they are our responsibility now. We will have to hold the manifestations within our property, until the Council has sent people to assist us…. We will help in destroying each one of the manifestations. So tonight we will have to be armed and ready._

…..

They were glad that they did because they were suddenly under attacked in the middle of the night when they were trying to pretend to asleep.

A consecutive _**BOOOOM! BOOOM! BOOM!**_ sounds were the only warning they got as the explosions shook the manor.

At once, the couple shot up from the bed and went racing for the door. They hastily pressed the button on their armbands to activate their armors. It solidified into existence with a _chink-chink-chink_ sounds as it assembled to cover every inch of their body; an armor that Fleamont helped create at Rosier's Weapon Testing Facility.

The two paused at the closed sliding doors to their room with their chosen weapons in hand. Fleamont Potter was holding Godric's retractable sword while Euphemia was using an _Avtomat Kalashnikova 100._ It was a small but powerful assault rifle and loaded with bullet grenades.

Beneath his helm, Fleamont received a data transmission from the E.L.F robot, informing him that James had been safely taken away from the estate. He could see the green pinging dot as the robot moved rapidly away from there.

Now, there was nothing holding them back from going all out when confronting James' manifestations.

They could now hear the ceaseless gunfire below.

The automatons had started fighting. They felt another slight quake as something detonated from the part of the manor.

Both Fleamont and Euphemia shared a brief look through their opaque visor.

 _Be careful,_ was what they silently told each other right before they unlocked their door and set off down the hall.

…..

In another home, the Riddle family were forced to find shelter inside the safety bunker created for emergency situation, where a car awaited for them. It was a black Lamborghini Legion powered by a V40 liter engine and with the maximum speed of 500 mph. An ideal car for a swift evacuation. Merope and her husband had placed their son inside as soon as the hatch slid shut.

Merope stood beside her husband, assessing the situation and calculating her next move. There was blood trickling down from a cut on Merope's cheek. She was growing pale and breathing hard. Her left arm was a mangled mess and hanged limply by her side, muscles and skin shredded, holes bore through most of it where the bullets from the Golgomath had gone straight through.

The only reason Merope was still standing was she had given herself a shot of morphine to block her pain receptors and used another shot to slow down the bleeding. The essence of ditanny would be useless in this situation, not when there were still metal shrapnels and glass embedded within her arm.

Merope wanted to cut her useless arm off so that it wouldn't hinder her movements, even if it means that she'll have to pay a visit to the Nott's Robotics to turn her arm into a droid, like she had done with her synthetic eyes.

Outside, she could hear the unending _**RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT**_ from the Golgomath that her husband had been working on, which her son's manifestation was currently controlling now.

The machine sprayed out countless bullets in second at once. Merope could see spider web crack appearing on the bulletproof glass of the safety bunker.

Her hand tensed over the Dragoon Rennault gun on her hand; a gift from her husband.

"Take our son and go, Tom." She said to her husband, checking her gun if the power source was still in good condition. "I will provide the distraction."

"Merope…" She heard her husband say, sounding pained, already knowing what she was about to do. "Come with us, we can escape together with our son. We can –"

"I SAID GO, TOM!" She yelled, readying herself, the gun in her hand already emitting a hum as it began charging to full power.

"You already know that I can't just leave, Tom! Someone has to stay behind and give the machine something to focus on while I wait for the council! This will allow you and our son to escape. So hurry and go! Or we will all end up getting blitzed by the Golgomath! Look around you! The glass house won't hold us for long!"

"NO! I can't leave you behind!" Tom said, blue eyes blazing. "What will our son think of me when he wakes up?! That I left you here?! Our son will hate me if I let you do this!"

"There is no other way, Tom! Do you understand?! I'm a pureblood! A prodigy! I have to stay and keep the manifestations here or they'll find a way to escape and follow after our son. You know this! Just let me see this to the end!"

Merope saw a muscle leaping on her husband's jaw.

She reached out and touched her husband's face and said to him softly, "You must let me do this, Tom…you must…"

She saw the war raging in her husband's eyes, his frustration, his desire to protect her and their son, his love, before finally, his eyes darkened to that of acceptance.

"I love you…" He said, suddenly grabbing her and kissing her on the lips, pouring everything he felt in that one kiss.

She felt tears prickling at the corner of her eyes at his words. Swallowing the lump in her throat that, she kissed him in equal amount of desperation. Her right one arm was useless by her side, so she used her good arm - which was still holding the gun - to pull him close and kiss him properly on the mouth.

Even if she had stopped using the amortentia perfume on her husband, she was uncertain if Tom was in love with her on his own, or the perfume that she had created had lasted longer.

When it was time to let out for air, her husband ended their kiss and pressed his forehead against hers, breathing her in.

"I love you." She heard him repeat, as if once was not enough. "You know that right?"

"I know and I love you too." She murmured, staring into her husband's eyes, silent tears trailing down her cheeks while her lips trembled.

She closed her eyes for second, before saying, "Now, go!"

And with one last peck on her forehead, Merope watched as her husband raced towards the opposite direction, towards the armoured vehicle where they had placed their unconscious son inside.

Merope turned, struggling not let out a strangled sob when she heard the slam of the car scissored door. She felt like an invisible hand was squeezing tightly around her heart, squeezing and squeezing until she could hardly –

She needed to get a hold of herself. Emotions would simply distract her.

The grip she had on her gun tightened, trying to focus on what she planned to do.

There was no time for crying.

This was the time to save her family.

A moment later, she heard her husband turned the engine of the car. It was immediately followed by the sounds of its heavy purring.

 **VRROOOMM – VRROOOOMM– VROOOOOOOMMM**

Not a moment too soon, she smelt an acrid smoke, which told Merope that her husband had geared the vehicle to top speed with the intent to get out of there fast.

"Mer.."

Merope heard the voice of her husband saying from the speaker of the car.

"I'll come back for you…so don't you dare die on me." He said.

She couldn't exactly see him, but she imagined her husband sitting on the driver's seat, his hands gripping the wheel tightly, his eyes staring straight ahead while he continued to press his foot on the gas pedal, revving the engine, where she could hear its loud purring that nearly drowned the sounds of the sailing bullets that tried to puncture through the bulletproof glass around them.

"I'm a pureblood, Tom. I came from a generation of prodigies. I won't die so easily…"

After saying them, she knew for the lie it was.

Merope wasn't going to survive that encounter if no one from the council arrived there on time.

She was going to die, and her husband seemed to struggle trying to reconcile with the fact.

Denial was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Still...be careful."

"I will…"

She heard the sound of the car changed. It was now letting off a low hum, indicating that it had reached maximum speed, ready to take off.

"Blast the ceiling for me, darling," Her husband requested in a low voice.

Without another second to waste, Merope swung her gun up and aimed it towards the glass ceiling and pulled the trigger.

 _**BOOOOOOM!** _

She felt the powerful blast, the scorching heat, and the sharp recoil that nearly brought Merope to her knees, and the blinding light as the dragon's breath incinerated a hole through the safety bunker, a hole big enough to fit two cars.

There was a gust of wind as her husband wheeled the armored car to shoot up towards the open space that she had provided.

 _**RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT** _

_**PING-PING-PING-PING-PING** _

Merope inwardly cursed as she heard the bullets ricocheting from the armored Lamborghini when the Golgomath tried to shoot it down.

With her heart racing and adrenaline pumping in her veins, she charged the gun once more, activating her synthetic eyes to use the basilisk; her drone that she had asked to sneak behind the enemy line and target down the number of manifestations there.

Her drone was still too far from the target. It had been silently killing the manifestation as it closed on the ones that were controlling the Giant machine. Merope had wanted to wait longer for it to go near but they didn't have the time.

Merope's synthetic violet eyes pulsed and saw vague shapes from the drone's transmission, of what she presumed must be the manifestations.

 _Too far._

The only thing she could do was used a disruptor. It would be enough to buy her husband time to leave, but it would also mean giving away her drone's position.

"Give them a dose of your killer eyes, Bas." She ordered.

Through her eyes, she watched as the basilisk drone sent a strong surge of electrical current outwards. Merope hoped it was enough to temporarily paralyzed the manifestations.

Instantly, the sounds of ricocheting bullets stopped. Merope looked up at once when she felt the wind stirred around her, whipping her hair. Worry gnawed her gut at the sight when she noticed the dents, and holes, that littered the armoured Lamborghini.

Merope hoped that the bullets didn't penetrate through the strong armour and hit both her husband and son.

In silence, she watched the car hover there for a few heart-thumping seconds, as if her husband was still hesitating to leave her behind.

Her drone's electrical surges could kill normal living targets, but if faced by her son's manifestations, it could only petrify for even less than half a minute.

She didn't have that time.

Her husband need to leave with their son. NOW.

"GO!" Merope shouted. The vehicle shot towards the skies, and was gone, leaving her alone to deal with what her son had created.

She let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding.

As soon as her drone's deadly electrical surges ran off its course. The manifestations destroyed her basilisk drone in their fury, their rage after they saw the car, carrying her son, flying away.

Then, they turned their attention towards her and started shooting.

 _**RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT** _

Around her, the bulletproof glass house started to crack, no longer able to withstand more than a thousand round shelling from the machine Golgomath.

Not waiting for the glass house to shatter around her, Merope knelt down on one knee, raised her gun at shoulder level, and started calibrating, her eyes turning a light shade of lilac as she used her infrared vision to find her target.

She was going to use the sniper mode on her Dragoon Rennault gun, increasing its piercing intensity to puncture a hole right through the ballistic glass, stone marble and metal to destroy the manifestation.

The power surge that her drone produced, and the image transmission, had provided her a good estimation where she might need to aim her gun.

She will have to trust her instinct and her eyes to shoot the manifestations one by one.

 _**Locked and Loaded** _

Merope narrowed her eyes, let out a breath and squeeze the trigger; once, twice, three times while swiftly moving and aiming her gun to the indistinguishable shapes that her eyes could see from her scooping vision.

She miscalculated.

The glass house had been thoroughly weakened after being subjected to the machine's relentless attack.

And as soon as her bullets pierced a hole straight through the glass, everything around her shattered.

Shards of glass rained down on her, leaving her at the mercy of the Golgomath.

….

"We weren't able to get to the Riddle's residence on time. Merope Gaunt, age 28, a descendant from both the Peverell and Slytherin line, was the first casualty. She died after getting blitzed by the Golgomath that was being controlled by the manifestation."

"When we arrived at the scene, there was nothing left of her." Another agent reported, "The body was shredded to pieces, her flesh and bone fragments scattered. We suspected that the manifestation had used the _Thousand Rounds Mist_ to kill her at once."

….

"Merope Riddle came from the Ancient and Noble House of Gaunt, and the descendant from both the Peverell and the Slytherin line." One of the shadowy figure began, "The Pureblood Society will surely mourn her death…"

"We will need to send our condolences to her _muggle_ husband and heir once we are certain that most of the manifestations are destroyed."

"Our men are still tracking the manifestations down as we speak. We are fortunate that the Potters and Riddles have taken an extra measure to activate their security system to confine the things within their lands. It will be easier for our troops to scour the area and destroy every one of them."

"But how about the child? Merope's son?"

"Ah, him…" Another said and relayed his report. "Tom Riddle Jr, age 8, has been contained at WOOL's sanatorium at the moment. He's been sleeping but his dreams are… _troubling_. There's been a spike of brain activity in his right hemisphere and he's been experiencing seizure every thirty minutes. If given a pen, he exhibited signs of psychography - or automatic writing - as well as automatic drawing. It's still with the same muse, Hermione Granger."

"And of the Potters? What's their status?"

"Both Fleamont and Euphemia Potter had been critically wounded when our men arrived at their house. However, they are being treated in the ICU. I had sent someone to watch over them, and I've been informed that their conditions have stabilize but placed under heavy medication. We won't be able to hear the exact details about what had transpired during the confrontation under the circumstance."

"And their son?"

"James Potter has been delivered to WOOL's Sanatorium as well," said another figure. "With the same condition as Merope's son. A seizure in every fifteen minutes after a spike of brain activity in the right hemisphere. Automatic writing and drawing…and he's been murmuring the name of his muse. _Hermione._ "

There was a short paused as the figures looked from one to another.

"Their muse, the muggleborn girl? Had there been any reports regarding her?"

"The people that we had stationed near the place had reported nothing unusual with the Granger family, even when the manifestations had begun attacking the Potters and the Riddles. Their personal muse, Hermione Jean Granger, currently around one month old, appeared to be a normal child."

"What about the rest of the affected families? Have they encountered the same manifestations?"

"As predicted from a non-harmful manifestation, the rest of the children have not created anything that might be considered a threat," a woman said, "Nonetheless, their _furor poeticus_ seemed to have gain in strength as of late."

Another joined in to divulge some information.

"The parents have informed us that the children had fallen under a trance-like state while the Riddle and Potter family had been under attack. The Malfoy twins, Abraxas and Lucius, both age 8, Abraxas had written an epic poetry during the trance - of what I assume - about what was happening. In his writing tablet, he mentioned Merope's heroic act to save her son and husband, the fury of the manifestation when both the father and son had escaped, as well as its triumphant glee at Merope's death. The other twin, Lucius, his manifestation is through dance, where he had interpreted the fight through complex battle forms. The youngest brother, Draco Malfoy, age 4, played the flute and sang what he called the Battle at the Potters."

"Sirius Black, age 6." Another figure continued on, "-his manifestation is tragedy, the domain of Melpomene. His parents saw him using a sword, and have unconsciously done Fleamont's infamous _Gryffindor sword strike_. I believe the boy was mimicking Fleamont Potter, who had been fighting using Godric's sword during the attack. Meanwhile, the younger brother, Regulus Black, five years old, his manifestation is through Hymns, under the domain of Polyhymnia. His works mentioned about Merope Riddle's passing."

"The son of Eileen Snape nee Prince and the Chairman of the National Security Council - Severus Snape, age 7 – wrote a love poetry, the love between Merope and her husband, Tom Riddle Sr."

"Remus Lupin, age 6 - the same one who had been abducted by the Biorobotechno Engineer, Fenrir Greyback, and injected by the Lycanthropy virus – his manifestation is through astronomy, he's been charting and reimagining the fight through the stars. He was seen using an old compass."

"And the last child who had just been reported," someone added, "His name is Peter Pettigrew, age 6, and his manifestation is through comedy."

Many raced their brows.

"As odd as it may sound in such tragic circumstances, but yes, Peter's parents had informed us that their son had shown signs of Thalia's manifestation. He was seen using a comic mask to recreate the battle in comedic form."

"Eight of the Nine Theïkós Moúses have been invoked, that could only mean one thing…"

There was a tensed silence that followed.

"We must stop _another one_ from completely taking form," said the head of the Council. "Samples that were taken from the destroyed manifestations, which had killed Merope Riddle, were around 5% _metaformed, o_ ur analysis experts had discovered. Just imagine if it had been 100%, for certain the damage and casualty would have been far greater…"

"This has all began with the birth of muggleborn girl," the woman from before remarked, "The children's personal muse. She had been the trigger that might have cause many deaths to our kind."

"What are you implying, Lady Rowle?"

"Why not put the girl to sleep? It might bring peace to the minds of the affected pureblood children."

"I have already discussed this with the other Council members, and we have all agreed that we can't take the risk. The Draught of the Living Death can be fatal to a child barely around one month old. It would have driven the pureblood children to insanity if we put their muse to sleep, especially while the boys are still experiencing _furor poeticus_."

"Is that even possible? To have the same personal muse, alongside nine other children?" someone asked from the gathering of thirteen.

"The Muse syndrome is a rare condition. Not many know how it truly works. The only facts that we know are from historical accounts, and those are even far and between. Sharing the same muse with others might be possible, albeit unusual."

"And given that _**one**_ is trying to step into our world, we can deduce that by invoking the Theïkós Moúses, it had plan to accelerate its metamorphosis."

"Even when the other children's manifestations remain non-threatening _for now_." Someone said amongst the thirteen figures. "We can't turn a blind eye at the possibility that it might change. The children might start manifesting in the same manner as James Potter and Tom Riddle Jr."

"Yes, I agree with Chancellor Shacklebolt." The Head of the Council said, "We need to bring the other children to the WOOL's Sanatorium and send a team of Alucinarist and other specialist who will find a way to suppress the children's creative output, redirect their brain activity to the left hemisphere, and have the children focus on harnessing their logical reasoning - science, mathematics and the like. This will stop them from using their creativity and imagination to create something that might be very well bring about the end of our world…."

 **Unknown Location**

 **WOOL's Sanatorium**

 **Sirius Black**

 **Age:** 6

 **Date of Birth:** November 3, 2324

 **Diagnosis:** Severe case of Muse Syndrome.

 **Personal Muse:** Hermione Granger (6 wks old)

 **Manifestations:** Tragedy

 **Guided by the Theïkós Moúsa:** Melpomene

 _*notes: The subject was seen wielding a sword during the trance._

 **Family members**

 **Father:** Orion Black

 **Mother:** Walburga Black

 **Sibling:** Regulus Black

The Alucinari read the brief profile of the child lying on the surgical bed in front of him. Sirius Black would be the first to be injected with the medication that his team had recently developed to suppress the creative side of the brain, and then afterwards they would have to Re-wire his mental activity to the left hemisphere.

Like the other parents, both Orion and Walburga Black had given their permission for this operation. (Not like they had a choice on the matter.) The Council of Merlin was involved, and of course, the Council's word was law.

Around him, the rest of the medical team was waiting for him to say the word. The child was already prep and already injected with anesthesia.

"Let's begin." He said to those that gathered.

 **o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-**

One after the other, the Alucinaris altered the children's mind…until finally, the memories, dreams and their capacity to imagine and create, were repress, forcing them to forget their ingrain artistic talents, and the newborn girl that started it all…their _personal muse_..

Hermione Granger.

 **TO BE CONTINUED...**

 **Information Mentioned in the story:**

 **Alucinari** \- means wander or wander in mind.

 **Furor Poeticus** \- means poetic madness, divine frenzy (instead of accidental magic, its called furor poeticus; a burst of artistic prodigious talent. Normally, pureblood children exhibit this between the age of three to ten and usually cease after three days to one week.)

 **Divine Winds** \- inspiration came from the Gods or Divine Muses

 **Spark** \- the ability to breathe life into their artwork.

 **Muse** \- can refer in general to a person who inspires an artist, writer, or musician. (wikipedia)

 **Personal Muse** \- one specific person destined to inspire one pureblood prodigy to excel in any areas and contributing to their many successes.

 **Muse Syndrome** \- usually starts with a vision/dream of their personal muse recently born into the world, followed by other symptoms, such as prolong _furor poeticus_ that last for more than a month, insomnia, loss of appetite, insatiable urge to create, persistent dreams/visions, Petit Mal seizures, hallucinations, automatic writing/drawing and other symptoms that haven't been reported. (I'm making this up.)

 **Manifestations** \- creative output or artistic creations as a result during a long period of _furor poeticus_. The manifestations are about individual's personal muse or anything that are related to them.

 **Re-wired** \- means that the brain's activity are controlled/altered to concentrate on just one hemisphere of the brain. In the children's case, the left hemisphere.

 **Metaformed** \- other word for transformed, transfigured, converted (the combination of metamorphosis and transformation)

 **The Council of Merlin -** composed of five members who governed the Pureblood Society in the shadows. They are created to ensure that the Pureblood's ancient history remains a secret. (Order of Merlin in HP canon)

 **E.L.F -** Evacuation - Life Insurance - Fight/Flight robot.

 **Merope's Basilisk** \- reconnaissance drone, designed with stealth and equipped with electrical power surges to either stun, electrocute, or immobilize (petrify) targets and disrupt radio frequency, magnetic fields, electricity, and lastly, it can kill. It is controlled by Merope through the small chip embedded in her temporal lobe, her synthetic violet eyes which can turn to either a infrared scope, freshnel imager, x-ray optics, spotting scope, submillimetre telescope, Ultraviolet scope. She can also accept live visual transmission from the basilisk drone, allowing her to see her target in a variety of ways.

 **Pureblood Mythos -** works from renown writers, poets, artists, prodigies/geniuses from the pasts, like William Wordsworth, William Shakespeare - or going further back - such as Homer, Aristophanes, Aristotle, Ovid and others.

 **Theïkós Moúses** \- means Divine Muses (plural)

 **Theïkós Moúsa** \- means Divine Muse (singular)

 **Apollon Mousagetēs** \- means Apollo Muse-leader (directs most of the muses)

In Greek Mythology, there are Nine Muses and they are:

1\. **Name:** Calliope

 **Domain:** Epic Poetry

 **Emblem:** Writing

*notes: Abraxas Malfoy's manifestation*

2\. **Name:** Euterpe

 **Domain:** Music, Song, Lyric poetry

 **Emblem:** Flute (Aulos)

*notes: Draco Malfoy's manifestation*

3\. **Name:** Erato

 **Domain:** Love Poetry

 **Emblem:** Lyre (Cithara)

*notes: Severus Snape's Manifestation*

4. **Name:** Melpomene

 **Domain:** Tragedy

 **Emblem:** Tragic mask, Sword

*notes: Sirius Black's manifestation*

5. **Name:** Polyhymnia

 **Domain:** Hymns

 **Emblem:** Veil, Grapes (often seen with a pensive expression)

*notes: Regulus Black's manifestation

6. **Name:** Terpsichore

 **Domain:** Dance

 **Emblem:** Lyre, Plectrum

*notes: Lucius Malfoy's manifestation

7. **Name:** Thalia

 **Domain:** Comedy

 **Emblem:** Comic Mask

*notes: Peter Pettigrew's manifestation

8. **Name:** Urania

 **Domain:** Astronomy

 **Emblem:** Globe and Compass

*notes: Remus Lupin's manifestation

9\. **Name:** Clio

 **Domain:** History

 **Emblem:** Scrolls, Books, Cornet, Laurel wreath

*notes: Identity unknown; the wildcard

-(sources - wikipedia)

 **Queen Hermione** is the character from Shakespeare's work 'The Winter's Tale'. At the end of the story, her statue came alive. Hermione is also a female name derived from the Greek Messenger God _Hermes_. (In this story, her name is used as a _warning_ , a message to the Purebloods that _one_ is close to entering their world.) Hermes is considered a god of transitions and boundaries. He is described as quick and cunning, moving freely between the worlds of the mortal and divine. He is also portrayed as an emissary and messenger of the gods; an intercessor between mortals and the divine, and conductor of souls into the afterlife. He has been viewed as the protector and patron of herdsmen, thieves, oratory and wit, literature and poetry, athletics and sports, invention and trade, roads, boundaries and travelers. (Wikipedia)

 **Automatic Writing or psychography** \- an alleged psychic ability allowing a person to produce written words without consciously writing. The words are claimed to arise from a subconscious, spiritual or supernatural source. (wikipedia)

 **Automatic Drawing -** the drawing produced may be attributed in part to the subconscious and may reveal something of the psyche, which would otherwise be repressed. (wikipedia)

 **The Right Hemisphere of the Brain - main functions:** Art awareness, creativity, imagination, intuition, insight, holistic thought, music awareness, 3-D forms, left-hand control. (brainmadesimple)

 **The Left Hemisphere of the Brain - main functions:** Analytical thought, logic, language, reasoning, science and math, written, number skills, right-hand control. (brainmadesimple)

...

 **Naming of some characters:**

 _Remus Lupin's Parents_

 **Father:** _ **Roman Quirinus Lupin**_ \- from the name Romulus, who was the founder and the first ruler of Rome, and had a twin brother named Remus. Quirinus for when Romulus became a God after his death. (wikipedia)

 **Mother:** _ **Hersilia Lupin nee Hora**_ \- from the name of Romulus' wife, Hersilia as described by both Livy and Plutarch, while Hora came from Ovid's Metamorpheses, when she was deified (like her husband) after her death and named as the Goddess Hora. _"...now mate to Quirinus." (wikipedia)_

...

 _Abraxas, Lucius and Draco's parents_

 **Father:** _**Septimus Malfoy**_ \- an ancestor from the Malfoy line. (HP canon name)

 **Mother:** _**Julia Domna Malfoy née Rosier**_ \- from the name Julia Domna, the wife of the 21st Roman Emperor - Septimius Severus - who ruled during the time of the _Year of the Five Emperors_. Julia Domna was famous for her prodigious learning as well as her extraordinary political influence. (wikipedia)

...

 _Peter Pettigrew's parents_

 _ **Father: Alexandre Yersen Pettigrew -**_ from the name of the french biologist, Alexandre Yersen, who discovered the germ that cause the Black Death, now known as the plague, is spread by a bacillus called Yersina pestis. (history)

 _ **Mother: Bubony Pettigrew née Loimos (Deceased)**_ \- the name _Bubony_ comes from the word Bubonic plague, derived from the Greek word βουβών, meaning "groin". This is one of the three types of infection caused by the Yesinia Pestis. Meanwhile, _Loimos_ means Pestilence, or pest in greek.


	2. Stray Memories

**Author's Note:** I know. Very late update. Thank you to those who have reviewed, favorited and followed this story! Thank you to **bageltiger, SereniteRose, Rose, Zookee, jessicamatthews65, breenieweenie and guests!**

.

The muscles on his hands twitched ever so often, his fingers fanning out, making a cupping motion. His wrist twisted slightly and his fingertips tingled. Soon after, it accompanied by a phantom sensation akin to touching something cold - _or was it pliant? Smooth? Unyielding?_ \- against the palm of his hands, his fingers pressing against something made of marble or metal or…

 _Clay._

 _Something made of clay?_

James wasn't sure.

It was a muscle memory…and a puzzle.

James could hardly recall how, and when, he had acquired it.

Every time his hand involuntarily moved, he always had the overwhelming urge to create; to craft, to sculpt, or to mold - but like always, there was something that stopped him from reaching out towards the next available object and unleash whatever his hand instinctively wanted to do.

But something was holding him back.

.

Tom didn't know how long he had stayed in WOOL's Sanatorium. His father had told him that there had been an outbreak of a rare virus that had targeted pureblood children, and Tom was one of those who were infected.

In nearly two months, he had been quarantined, but he had no memories of his time being there. When he had woken up a day ago, he had been alarm to find himself in an unfamiliar room with see-through walls.

It was only when someone - an Alucinari wearing the profession's usual white robe, and a breathing mask - came and explained everything to Tom.

Of course, Tom hadn't believed the man at first. He was suspicious and only assumed the worst.

Tom had thought he had been abducted, even when the Alucinari had suggested that he saw his father, Tom had remained suspicious.

Expecting it to be a lie, he had been rather surprise to see Tom Riddle Sr. in a meeting area with a high-voltage electrical barrier to separate them.

By then, he had felt more of a prisoner than a someone who had been sick for two months. After making sure that it was indeed his father who was sitting in front of him, Tom had started asking question.

" _Is it the Lycanthropy virus father?"_

" _No, Tom. It's something different,"_ had been his father's response.

Tom had noted how his father had looked worse for wear, _haggard,_ when he had spoken to him. His father's face drawn into an expression that made him appear three times older.

" _What is it?"_ He remembered pressing for more answers.

" _The Alucinaris call it the Esum virus."_

 _Tom frowned. The Esum virus must be new. He had never heard or came across it in his previous readings in Virology books before._

" _What did the Esum virus exactly do father that I needed to be quarantined?"_

" _The Esum virus affected your memories…" His father said, looking him straight in the eye. "It had taken all your recent memories – both long and short term –that you have acquired in the last two months. If it weren't for the cure, which was recently developed by the Alucinaris, the virus would have taken eight years' worth of your memories."_

 _His father explained, but Tom suspected that his father hadn't been entirely truthful._

" _Is that the only thing it did to me father? Take away my memories?" He asked, observing for his father's reaction._

 _He saw something flicker in his father's gaze._

" _No."_

 _Then, his father's face underwent on a complete transformation, appearing more grief-stricken._

 _Tom tilted his head to the side, watching when his sire let out a shuddering breath._

" _That's not the only thing it could do…The virus is - is fatal to Adults, Tom. Your mother was the first pureblood to have – to have died from the contact….along with some others - half bloods and muggles - who have been infected from the airborne transmission…"_

 _Tom stared at his father, hardly believing what he was hearing._

" _This fact wasn't release to the media." His father stated wearily, "There are certain **people** who wants to keep this a secret, Tom. Promise me that you won't reveal this to any outsiders…or there will be dire consequences if this information should fall to the wrong ears." _

_Tom didn't know what to say, or do, he merely stared unseeingly in front of him._

 _His mother was dead…_

 _Finally, Tom understood the reason his father looked completely devastated._

 _._

It was Draco's third day in WOOL's Sanatorium.

He had already met with his older twin brothers and his parents yesterday. The only other people he had seen so far was the Alucinaris and the other medics that came to ask how he was.

Although the Alucinari – who was assigned to him - had informed Draco that he was going to meet up with the rest of the children who were quarantined like him.

Draco was a bit apprehensive. His older brothers had always like to play cruel tricks on him in front of other children.

At around four years old, Draco Malfoy - like the other pureblood children - was more mature for his age. He had the mental capacity of an ten-year-old within a four-year old's body - a normal occurrence in all prodigies.

Still, he wished the twins would stop ruining his chance at making friends in his own age.

Lying in his feather light, magnetic floating bed, Draco sighed out loud, gazing up at the white ceiling.

He recalled what the Alucinari had said about the virus which had infected the children.

The _Esum virus._

"Esum virus." Draco murmured, frowning, "E…sum…E - sum…"

"E.S.U.M..." He said each letters.

Without warning, he sensed the tell-tale itch, the constriction in his throat.

He stiffened. His left hand flying towards his neck just as his vocal cords started to vibrate.

Draco's frown deepened in both concentration and annoyance. He swallowed hard. He did it again and again while his fingers began to move on its accord, playing – of what he supposed – an imaginary musical instrument.

Involuntarily, he opened and closed his mouth, a strangled noise coming from him, as if there was something within him that wanted to be let out, _needed_ to be vocalize, to be _sang._

Something strange and powerful.

Something wild, beautiful and lyrical.

A song…

It was a song.

 _Orpheus' Song._ The Alucinari had referred to it.

Draco was perplexed that they had named the abnormal sensation he had been experiencing after Orpheus. Though it was preferable than calling it an ordinary sore throat.

" _The virus didn't only alter the left hemisphere of your brain, and taken two-months of your memories, but it had affected your muscle memory as well. In your case, your Thyroaretenoid muscle. You will experience instances where you will have an unwanted premonitory urge to… sing and possibly experience multiple tics, either motor or phonic that is similar to Tourette syndrome."_

" _Will I be like this forever?"_

" _No, it will fade in time. You will lose the **song** as you grow older."_

 _When I'm older…_ Draco thought as his mouth opened and closed like that of a fish out of water.

 _That's too long - **too long**. I will ask father to fund a research team to develop a drug that will inhibit this – this anomaly. I won't allow myself to be humiliated. Abraxas and Lucius have constantly done that to me as it is. And this **Orpheus' Song** will surely make me a pariah. I can only hope that the virus had left a mark in Brax and Luke in the same way is it did to me._

.

James silently walked towards the boy who was sitting on the bench near a cherryblossom-apple tree. The artificial sunlight within the indoor park of WOOL's Sanatorium made the seven-petaled flowers sparkle in different shades of purple and blue, striking the boy's hair and turning it into indigo, while the crisp, lemon-scented breeze made the black stem and the thin branches of the trees dance and sway.

The unknown boy was frowning, his foot carefully nudging the synthetic pearly-white and translucent grasses that covered most of the park.

The boy looked up when he heard James' un-muffled footsteps.

Their eyes met.

James halted in front of him and stared.

The boy had dark hair the same as him, though it was combed to one side, with not a strand of hair out of place. A far cry from James' messy dark locks which was sticking out in every direction.

Deciding that he might as well be the first to introduce himself, James walked closer, extended his hand and smiled.

"Hello," He said, "My name is James Potter… and you are?"

The other boy eyed James' proffered hand for a second before reaching out to take it.

"I'm Tom." The other boy – Tom - said, clasping James' hand. "Tom Riddle."

"Finally, I have someone to talk to. It's nice to meet you, Tom." James said smiling wide.

The other boy just simply looked at him with an expressionless face.

James was about to let go of the other boy's hand, when - and to his utter embarrassment - his hand clenched around the boy's hand in a deadly grip. James' fingers fanning out.

He sensed the other boy, Tom, freezing.

"You have it too…" James heard Tom say, who sounded surprised.

"Have what?" James asked, frowning and trying in vain to control his hand. It didn't look like it had a plan of letting go of Tom's hand soon.

James' felt his face heating up.

" _Hephaestus' hands_ …." Tom remarked, surprisingly unperturbed at the fact that James hadn't let go.

In fact, Tom looked far more interested at his hand.

"And what's that supposed to be?" He asked, getting uncomfortable at the hand-holding _thing_.

"The involuntarily movements on your hands is the lasting effect from the Esum virus." Tom informed him, "It's called _Hephaestus' hands,_ an event where you will have an irresistible desire to create something; to mold, to craft - or mostly - to sculpt or carve. Haven't you felt the need to craft something while in this state?"

James response, was of course, immediate.

"Yes, I have…but how do you know about this?" He said.

"The Alucinari told me…and because I have it too," was Tom's reply.

That was when James' noticed at last that his fingers weren't the only ones that had fanned out.

Tom's hand was doing the same thing too.

"I thought I'm the only one." James' said, looking up at the older boy and grinning wide. "It looks like I'm wrong. I'm glad that I've found myself a partner whose abnormal as me."

"I'm not abnormal." Tom stated, pursing his lips. "And you're not my partner."

"But you are _\- will be._ I can feel it in my bones." James said, but Tom was so serious that he didn't even realize that James was simply joking.

"No, I will not." Tom insisted.

"Tell that to your hand."

James' saw the other boy scowl, and he knew in that instance that he and Tom would get along swimmingly.

"Let go of my hand, or else I'll cut your blood circulation off."

 _Or not._

.

Two other children joined them a little later.

They, too, were dark haired.

James stared at the one with the long hair. She was rather pretty.

Tom was frowning at the girl too.

"Hello!" the one with shoulder-length hair called out, waving his hand at them as he half-jogged and half-walked towards them. "My name is Sirius Black."

"Nice to meet you, Sirius." James said out loud, "I'm James Potter, and this is Tom Riddle," he pointed to the boy standing beside him, who had a blank expression plastered on his face. "But he prefers to be called Tom-Tom."

James bit his lip to stop from laughing when he saw the older boy's expression turned sour. Tom opened his mouth, and was about to say something, when Sirius Black finally arrived to greet them, stopping Tom from speaking what was on his mind.

"It's good to know that we weren't the only ones who were sent here!" Sirius exclaimed, his eyes landing on Tom Riddle who was currently glowering at James Potter, whom in turn, was trying not to look _too amused_.

"What's with the long face Tom-Tom?" the Black heir asked.

"The name is _Tom Riddle_." Tom hissed slowly, and with emphasis, transferring his deadly glare on the new boy. "Tom. Marvolo. Riddle."

Sirius glanced at James, and saw the other boy's laughing eyes.

The Black heir grinned, " _Riddle_?"

Tom stiffened, half-expecting to be discriminated for _obviously_ being a half-blood, especially from someone who came from the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

What he didn't expect was for the Black heir to create a nickname for him.

"Like Riddle-diddle?"

"Of course not," He said, looking affronted. "It's Tom Riddle. My mother is from the Noble and Ancient House of Gaunt. The last known Heir of Slytherin. The -"

"And I'm the Whoomping Willow!" James cut in, "No one cares whether you're really a pureblood or half-blood, Tommy, not to me at least."

James turned to face the Black heir and asked, "Do you?"

"Not any more than you do," Sirius responded, smiling good-naturedly.

"Then, we'll get along just fine." James stated simply, "Because Tom, here, is now my partner. I will be offended if someone insulted him."

"You're not my partner." Tom bit out, silently bristling.

James leaned in close to Sirius and murmur conspiratorially in his ear.

"Tom told me that he and I have _Hephaestus' Hands._ I don't know what's that supposed to be, but I've been teasing him that he and I are going to be lifetime partners."

"Don't believe in anything he's saying!"

James heard Tom's angry comment and snickered.

"You are right. You and I are going to get along just fine," Sirius Black remarked, grinning mischievously.

James responded with a grin of his own.

"I don't like the sound of that," a new voice joined in and James turned to look.

It was the girl with the pretty face and waist-length black hair.

"Ah… meet my little sister, Regalia." Sirius introduced. He suddenly had cat-eating grin.

"It's Regulus Arcturus Black," corrected the new comer, "I'm the little brother to that idiot standing beside you."

James gaped.

Tom stared and said bluntly, "You look like a girl."

At Tom's comment, Sirius guffawed.

Regulus frowned. "I may have long hair but it doesn't necessarily mean that I'm supposed to be female."

"Still, it might have been… _ideal_ if you had cut your hair short so no one will mistake you for a one."

Regulus stared at Tom with a flat expression.

Tom returned it with the same inscrutable look.

"I told you to cut your hair short Re. Ga. Lia." Sirius was saying, "But you always –"

Not wanting to breathe in the same space with the boy who insulted him, and his daft older brother, Regulus walked out of there without a backward glance.

Tom watched him go.

"You shouldn't have said that to him, Tom." James reprimanded, glancing at his new friend. "Now, you hurt his feel - "

"No one really cares!" Sirius interrupted, glaring after his younger brother. "Don't worry. Nothing really gets to him. He has the heart like my mother's. It's made of stone - or is it made from hard, cold gold?"

Sirius laughed at his own joke, though the sound was more brittle than warm.

James and Tom looked at him.

"What are you laughing about, Black?" came the chorus from two similar voices.

Almost at once, Sirius' laughter died down and was replaced by a groan. "Ugh, not them."

Both James and Tom directed their attention to where the voices had come from.

They saw two platinum-blonde haired boys not a good distance away and sporting two identical sneers on their faces.

Their eyes landed on Tom.

The Malfoy twins grinned maliciously.

Tom tensed. He remembered meeting them when his mother had brought him to a Pureblood Party months ago. The two Malfoys had made it clear that his presence hadn't been welcome.

"We remember you." The twins said in unison.

"You're the son of that Pureblood woman who eloped with a muggle." One of the twins say. Tom assumed was Abraxas Malfoy, while the other one, Lucius Malfoy, who said: "Riddle, was it?"

And with a sneer, they said simultaneously, "Half-blood."

Tom froze, growing cold and mildly shaken to be reminded of his blood status and the scandal that his mother had brought to the House of Gaunt. His mother had decided to elope and marry Tom's father, a muggle, instead of the Pureblood man whom Merope had been betrothed to marry.

His mother…his _dead_ mother.

Tom's face remained impassive even though there was a maelstrom of emotion raging inside him. Fury and loathing towards the twins. Anguish and -

Then, James was suddenly there.

"Hey, back off!" James snapped defensively, placing himself in front of Tom. The younger boy's eyes flashing in anger. "Get the hell out of here before I punch you both in the face! Tom didn't do anything to you! Why are you suddenly insulting him?"

 _Fool._ Tom thought, shaken out of his temporary stupor.

Even though James was a few inches shorter, he appeared to stand taller than Tom while James faced the Malfoy twins head-on without an ounce of fear.

"Because he's a half-blood!" Abraxas sneered, "What other reason do we need to attack him other than him gracing us with his lowly presence?!"

Sirius Black stepped right to stand next to James.

"Go away, you airheads! We don't need your blood supremacist nonsense in here!" He said, making dismissive motion with his hand.

"Yeah, get the hell out of here!" James chimed in, his face flush red.

Tom watched the two in front of him, completely dumbfounded. This was the first time that someone cared enough to defend him from children with strong pureblood beliefs.

"And if we don't?" the twins chorused, straightening up and striding towards the three, ready to settle their score with a bout of fisticuffs.

However, someone else arrived before anyone could do anything.

"Hello," came a soft voice from behind the twins.

Abraxas and Lucius Malfoy whirled around to see who had spoken.

They saw that it was none other than a boy with light brown hair and claw marks on his left face.

"You might probably know me already…." The boy began, a small and hesitant smile fluttering across his lips as he regarded all five of them.

"I'm Remus Lupin..." the boy said, oblivious to the tension in the air.

The Malfoys paled and scattered away from Remus like he was carrying a contagious disease.

James saw hurt flashed on the boy's face, which Remus tried to mask but ultimately failed. The boy's bottom lip trembled, his soulful eyes turn downcast as if ashamed.

Sirius saw the boy's shuttered expression and felt a flare of anger towards the twins.

The boy was about turn and leave when Sirius moved towards him. He purposely hit the twins with his shoulder, none-too-gently.

"Gits," Sirius said beneath his breath. He felt their furious glowers as he caught up with the new boy.

"Hey, wait."

Remus paused to look, instantly noticing Sirius extended hand.

"Just ignore the twins. They're both dunderheads. My name is Sirius Black." Sirius said, taking Remus' hand and shaking it.

Remus was surprised.

"We'll get you back, Black!" Abraxas and Lucius called out, already walking away from there. "We'll ask your cousin, Bella, to make your life hell!"

"Go on right ahead!" Sirius yelled after them, "Bella doesn't scare me!"

James watched the twins leave and asked, "You know them?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Sirius said, grimacing.

Then, his face broke into a grin when he directed his attention back to the other boy – Remus - who was now looking like he wanted to disappear into the ground.

"But anyway, come and meet our new friend, Remus." Sirius said, tagging Remus' hand to bring him near.

James noted how Remus face seemed to flush crimson after Sirius called him a 'friend'.

Meanwhile, Tom was watching the werewolf with a calculating gleam in his eyes.

It was James who stepped forward first.

"Hi, the name is James." James said, holding up his hand.

Remus took it after a moment of uncertainty.

"Remus." The brown haired boy said shyly. "It's nice to meet you James."

James smiled. "You too."

After letting go of Remus' hand, James elbowed Tom on the ribs to introduce himself.

Tom didn't move. His cold, blue eyes carefully assessing the werewolf in front of him.

Remus looked expectantly at the older boy.

Tom remained silent.

As the silence stretched on, Remus started to fidget, anxious and afraid for another rejection.

Sirius glared at Tom over Remus' shoulder.

James frowned, glancing at the boy beside him and noticed Tom's imperious expression.

Scowling, he discretely stomped on Tom's foot.

Tom Riddle yelped.

"I apologize." James said to Remus, "My partner here is a bit slow in the uptake."

"You – you! I'm not –!" Tom sputtered.

James merely grinned and shoved Tom forward. The eight-year old heir ended up stumbling towards Remus, who reached out to steady him.

Tom looked up and instantly jumped back when he realized that Remus was holding him.

He shot glares in James' and Sirius' direction who were both snickering. He began to wonder if the two were in fact siblings separated at birth.

"And his name is Tom Riddle." James said and shortly added, "My partner."

"I AM NOT YOUR PARTNER!"

Tom's furious outburst was greeted with merry laughter.

Somehow the cloud of melancholy that hovered over him earlier that day was gone. Tom didn't want to acknowledge it, even as he met two pairs of mischievous eyes, and saw the hesitant smile coming from the werewo –no, _Lupin_.

.

Regulus was looking for a spot away from the other children when he saw a platinum blonde hair peeking out from the other side of the bush.

Curious, Regulus walked around to see who it belonged to.

The boy sitting on the ground looked up when he saw Regulus.

He recognized the blonde, of course.

One of the Malfoy heirs. Draco Malfoy.

"Hi," the boy greeted.

"Hello," Regulus said.

They both regarded each other for a moment.

"I'm Draco Malfoy." The blonde boy supplied.

"Regulus Black."

They had seen each other before but they weren't properly introduced.

Now, they were.

Another paused.

Regulus took this time to look around and noticed the uprooted grasses beside Draco.

He raised his brow in question.

Draco followed his gaze and explained, "Oh, I was pulling grasses."

"That much is clear… but why?"

"Nothing…just something to preoccupy myself."

Regulus brows knitted but didn't comment.

"Do you want to join me?" Draco asked.

"In what? Pulling grasses?" Regulus inquired in confusion.

"No, sit beside me."

Briefly, Regulus stared and safely concluded that Draco appeared to be in the same temperament as he was.

Slowly, he walked towards the place beside the other boy and settled down. His long black hair fluttering about his face.

As an afterthought, Regulus said: "By the way, I'm a boy."

"I know."

.

"Tom and I have the same symptom." James divulged to Sirius and Remus; to Tom's chagrin. "The Alucinari call it _Hephaestus' Hands_."

The four of them were sitting across from each other, Tom and James facing Sirius and Remus, like they were sharing ghost stories in front of a camp fire.

"I have something almost similar to that…" Sirius said, looking at his hands. "My hands twitches and clenches as if to grasp an object. It's hard to tell what it is…but it feels like - like a sword. The other day, I was swinging and flailing my arms wide that Doctors had to restrain me, or I would have ended up breaking both of my arms…" then he added in a whisper, "-or I may have done it just to try to get away from here."

James laughed out loud while Remus' brows knitted in disapproval but didn't say anything.

Sirius smiled. Of course, he didn't tell them that he felt an anguish so profound, so tragic that his heart had stopped the first time he had those episode, and the Doctors had to use a shot of epinephrine to jumpstart his heart again.

Sirius wanted to know what was wrong with him, but the Alucinari had simply told him that it was something they were trying to figure out still. However, they hadn't name his odd episodes like they did with James' and Tom's. Perhaps he could start by coming up with names for it as well once he is in his _prison cell_.

Meanwhile, Tom Riddle wanted to be somewhere else but there. Though he couldn't do that with James constantly pulling him to sit back down.

Tom scowled as he glanced at the boy in question.

 _James, the idiot._ He thought in irritation, where the younger boy had remained attach to his side like a leech. He glowered down at the grasses.

"Hey, stop that!" James said, bumping Tom with his shoulder. "Stop trying to kill those poor grasses with your murderous eyes. Go try to glare at the rock instead."

"And what's the difference in that?"

"Because rocks don't die." James said simply.

"That's your explanation?" Tom asked incredulously.

James just gave him a look that silently said, " _What else?"_

Tom wanted to exclaim in exasperation, but instead he bit out, "You will never be my partner."

But to Tom's increasing frustration, James just shrugged nonchalantly and said, "We'll see."

Tom opened his mouth to argue, but Sirius suddenly said out loud.

"And you Remus?" Sirius asked, ignoring Tom and James, directing his question to the boy sitting quietly beside him.

Remus shrunk himself into a ball as Sirius, James and Tom turned to look at him rather expectantly. He didn't want to answer, to tell them what he had been experiencing, but they were…they were expecting him to talk. And Sirius was waiting, _they_ were waiting, and Remus didn't want to disappoint his - his new friends.

"Mine is different… _odd_ …" Remus murmured softly, unnerved at the three pairs of eyes set on him, giving him their full attention, most especially Tom Riddle's.

He fidgeted, his fingers fiddling on the invisible wrinkles on his white trousers. "When I have those episode, I often found myself looking towards the heavens, as if searching for something…Like you, I'm uncertain what it is…but I know that it is not the – the moon…"

Remus trailed off, growing uneasy at the mention of the moon, where many knew what it meant for someone like _him_.

There was a temporary silence, where Remus could feel Tom's glacial eyes drilling holes into his profile. Abruptly, a self-conscious flush crept up to his neck. Remus didn't look up in his direction, but he knew that Tom was scrutinizing him still.

There was something about Tom that made Remus feel stupid and awkward, and – and wanted to be acknowledge by the older boy.

It was in the way the other boy carried himself, the air of confidence that Remus envy. He wanted to have that kind of self-assurance that Tom had clearly mastered even at the young age.

Even though they were child prodigies, Remus had never considered himself one. He was cursed.

It was Sirius who broke the gloom with his usual bright smile, radiating more like the sun than a star.

"If not the moon, perhaps you were looking for a star?" Sirius suggested, his blue-grey eyes dancing merrily.

"Maybe." Remus murmured, gazing at the milky white grasses on the ground. He started threading his fingers through them, feeling its cool, silk-like texture slipping between his fingers.

"Now, now, don't be sad, Remus." Sirius said, noticing his crestfallen face.

"You need not look far for a star this early morning, or wait for the night to come, because I'm right here!" The Black heir quipped.

"You?" Remus glanced at him, frowning. "Why you - Oh..."

Remus said, staring at Sirius when he realized what the other boy meant.

"I see," was the only thing Remus manage to say, his mood lifting up all of a sudden. There was a smile tagging at the corners of his mouth.

Sirius Black just crinkled his eyes in mischief.

"I don't get the joke." James said, looking at both of them.

Tom stared at James, silently saying, _"Are you stupid?"_ He was beginning to doubt if James was even a prodigy, or James' parents must have dropped him in the head while he was still a baby.

James just frowned at him.

Taking this chance for him to escape, Tom stood up and said, "Wait here, and I'll get a book about Astronomy for you to read." – _a book to_ _hit your head, more like._ Tom thought in irritation.

"No, you won't!" James said, grabbing a hold of Tom's arm and forcing him to sit down.

Once more, Tom Riddle yelped when he ended up sprawled on the ground.

"You're not going anywhere, Tom-tom! Now, sit and explain!" James demanded, pinching Tom's cheeks.

Tom winced and prayed for the day to end soon, needing for the Alucinaris to take him away from there, away from James Potter's clutches, because he knew, even if he tried to hide anywhere in the Park, James Potter would try to find him.

"Don't pinch me, _Potter_!"

.

Severus was leaning on the bark of a tree, his legs stretched out before him, and he was looking at the domed ceiling, when he could no longer ignore the sensation of being watched.

"I know you're there." He said to no one in particular, but he could sense someone peering at him from the bushes just to his right. "Don't think I didn't hear you creeping to hide in those bushes, I heard you loud and clear, you have to do better than that."

There was a rustle and Severus looked towards the direction of the sound. A chubby boy with dirty-blonde hair and baby-blue eyes crawled out of the bushes.

"I'm so sorry," the boy sniffed, his big round eyes were puffy and watery with tears. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I was only trying to find a place to hide."

"Hide from who?" Severus asked, sitting up straight, his face remaining cool.

All of a sudden, the boy burst into tears, sobbing and wringing his hands together in obvious distress.

"They called me fat." The boy sobbed, "Those blonde boys. They wanted to push me in the pond. They – "

"Hey, fatty!" someone called out, and the crying boy stopped what he was about to say, instantly stiffening.

Severus slowly got up to his feet, dusting away imaginary lints from his white clothes, which was similar to the ones the other boy was wearing.

"Where are you, you fat little rat?!" a familiar voice called out, growing nearer.

"Come out, come out, and let's play a game of cat and mouse!" shouted another.

Severus heard the burst of twin laughter and immediately knew who they were dealing with.

"You were running away from the Malfoys?" He asked the boy, whom he realized, had skittered to hide behind him.

Severus half-turned to look at him and saw the boy nodding his head, looking frightened and anxious all at once.

There was a snot running from his nose, which the boy tried to wipe off with the long sleeves of his white shirt.

Severus surveyed him in half-disgust and half-pity before finally making a decision.

"You better run." He told him, walking towards the noise.

"What about you?" the boy said with a quaver, already stepping towards the other direction, poised to flee…yet the boy hesitated.

Severus just gave him a blank stare and said, "I'll keep them occupied."

"Oh," the boy said, glancing at him uncertainly. "Why not come with me? Won't they just bully you like they did to me if you remained behind?"

There was a pause while Severus listened to both Abraxas' and Lucius' shouts and laughter drawing closer and closer to where they were.

Severus could see the strange boy growing more anxious to leave by the second, but the boy didn't. The strange boy was waiting for him.

"Go, before they arrive." Severus could only warn him when the boy hadn't move yet.

"Wait, I don't know your name." the boy stated out loud, his blue-eyes wide, wondering, and still waiting.

Abraxas and Lucius making more noise as they crash through the foliage and undergrowth of whatever plants the indoor park had.

"Severus Snape." Severus said briskly.

"My name is Peter Pettigrew and – and thank you!" the boy said, his voice ending up in a squeak when both the Malfoys finally arrived at last and saw Severus first.

Severus blocked their view of Peter, whom he heard slipping away from there as silently as he could, taking Severus' early advice.

"Abraxas. Lucius." Severus greeted, his onyx eyes meeting their surprise stares.

"Severus!" The twins said in unison, breaking down into easy grins.

"We didn't expect to see you here." Lucius said but then Abraxas interrupted.

"Severus, have you seen a fat boy coming this way?"

"No, I haven't," came his immediate answer.

"Are you sure?" Abraxas persisted, his eyes narrowing.

There was a pause.

"A fat boy, you say?" Severus repeated as if considering this for a moment.

Both the twins nodded.

"I couldn't very well miss anyone by that description, could I?" Severus drawled wryly. "No, the boy didn't come through this area"

The twins look disappointed.

"Perhaps you can help us look for him, Severus?" Lucius suddenly said. "The boy was the son of a –"

"No." Severus interrupted, _too sharply_ , which drew Lucius' and Abraxas' intense gaze.

He backtracked, reminding himself that these boys came from an influential and powerful family, more powerful than his, and they were not truly his friends - not in any sense. Abraxas and Lucius had only befriended him at the behest of their father, since Severus was the only son and heir of the Head of International Security Council.

"I meant to say that...perhaps we can look for the others instead?" Severus suggested.

At this, the twins were more than happy to lead him to a place where he met four other boys.

Clearly, the Malfoys were out for blood.

.

Through the one-way glass walls, the Alucinaris and the rest of the Medical team watched as the boys met and interacted for the first time.

"How long will the suppression serum last?"

"It's expected to last around 15-20 years." The Leader of the Research Team informed. "However, we still need to give them another shot of the medication before it expires."

"And the other symptoms?"

"The boys will be provided with the medication to treat them individually."

"That's good to hear... We can only hope that they will never remember what truly happened."

"Yes, it's only for the best that they don't."

Somewhere below they could see the boys gathering at one place.

"It looks like they are about to fight." someone commented behind them.

"And the muggleborn girl?" an Alucinari asked, but before the Head of the Team could answer, their attention was drawn to the fight which had finally broke out among the child prodigies.

.

.

 _"What do you usually dream, dear?"_

 _"I dream…I dream of a box full of evil things..."_

.

 **.**

 **Author's Note:** Ok, first of all. I told myself to do a major revision in this chapter because it looked like its turning into a M/M Harem story. More than a month later. I failed. But don't worry, Hermione will still have her Harem. It's just that the boys are close. Ahaha…This is the chapter where the boys meet for the first time and become friends. You know, Bromance.

* * *

 **Information**

 **Mnemosyne** source of the word _mnemonic_ , was the personification of memory in Greek mythology. A Titanide, or Titaness and the mother of the nine Muses by her nephew Zeus. (Wikipedia)

*Mnemosyne is the mother of the nine muses. She personifies **memory.** _Memory births the muses_. In this chapter, the boys memories are modified, the left hemisphere of their brain are repressed, though not entirely, because they still experience things that even their muscle memories can't forget, like James' and Tom's hands moving of its own accord as if to carve or mold. Draco trying to sing and play a flute. Sirius swinging his arms while he's holding an imaginary sword. Lupin looking up towards the skies.

 **Muscle Memory** \- when a movement is repeated over time, a long-term muscle memory is created for that task, eventually allowing it to be performed without conscious effort, such typing on a keyboard, playing a musical instrument, martial arts or even dancing. (Wikipedia)

 **.**

 **1\. Draco Malfoy**

 **Muse Name:** Euterpe

 **Domain:** Music, Song, Lyric poetry

 **Emblem:** Flute (Aulos)

 ***Orpheus' Song –** name of the episode when Draco usually has the unwanted premonitory urge to sing and play the flute.

 **2\. Sirius Black**

 **Muse Name:** Melpomene

 **Domain:** Tragedy

 **Emblem:** Tragic mask, Sword

*Unnamed – an episode where Sirius involuntarily swings his arms like he's holding a sword. His heart stopping, feeling a strong sense of anguish and tragedy. Depression. Sorrow.

 **3\. Remus Lupin**

 **Muse Name:** Urania

 **Domain:** Astronomy

 **Emblem:** Globe and Compass

*Unnamed – an episode where Remus constantly looks towards the heavens and scans the skies, always searching.

 **4\. Tom Riddle and James Potter**

 **Muse Leader:** Apollo

 **Domain:** All arts

* **Hephaestus' hands** \- name of the episode when Tom or James usually has the urge to mold, carve or craft something. Their hand movements are the same.


End file.
